A Tisket, A Triscuit

My son is addicted to Triscuits. I'm not sure when it happened...sometime between doctor visits to assess his level of dehydration from the Rotavirus and trips to the ER for an IV to treat said dehydration, in my madness to try to get him to eat or drink anything, he discovered Triscuits and his life hasn't been the same since. I tried juice, popsicles, water, fruit, pedialyte, cookies (Chessmen cookies were a momentary hit), and ice cream. Nothing appealed to him. Then I tried Triscuits, and suddenly just the sight of that little yellow box would bring yelps of joy from his otherwise sallow face.






















Now that he has fully recovered from the plague, his penchant for the little tan plaid crackers has not waned but instead increased to new highs. As far as I'm concerned, the Triscuit is the Wonder Cracker. It solves any situation. It stops crying on sight. It makes car rides quiet and pleasant. It makes going to the grocery store almost enjoyable.

Sure his car seat and the floor of the back seat are covered in teeny tiny Triscuit pieces. So is his stroller - but this is a small price to pay for the happiness those little squares of toasted goodness have brought me.

So until I am able to detect some negative side effect of feeding my son a continuous diet of salty crackers, I will be a loyal customer of the National Biscuit Company's (that's Nabisco, for you cracker neophytes) Triscuit.